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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND L 



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Acadian Legends 

and Lyrics 



By 
ARTHUR WKNTWORTH KATON 



LONDON AND NKW YORK 
WHITE ^ ALLEN- 

Mncrt Lxxxi.x 



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Copyright. 1889, 

BY 

WHITE & ALLEN. 






36S5Z 



I INSCRIBE HRRB 



TWO NAMES THAT LIVE TOGETHER 



IN MY LOVE 



ANNA AUGUSTA WILLOUGIIBY 
HAMILTON EATON 



AND 



SUSAN HAMILTON 



The vaulted chamben o/thefoefs brain 
Are peopled by a restless throng who beat 
Bewildering music ^ sometimes low and sweety 

Sometimes a loud^ wild-resonant re/rain. 

There glide soft-sheeted ghosts of long spent yearly— 
Sweet, sensuous loves of youth that lived an hour, 
Hopc^s phantom forms, delicious dreams of power. 

When all the world was new, and later fears 

*■ 

Entangled not the boy^s swift'flying feet. 
Beneath the dim, unearthly arches hide 
Odors from far-off flowers, and there abide 

The mother-songs that childhood's ears first greet. 



'^■"\' 



CONTENTS. 



ACADIAN LEGRNDS : — 

The NamiiiR of the Gaspercau 

L'Ordre d? Kon Temps 

The Legend of Glooscap 

Departure of Glooscap 

Resettlement of Acadia 

L'lle Sainte Croix . . . , 

Phantom Light of the Baie des Chaleurs 

Marguerite and the Isle of Demons 

De Sot»'s Last Dream . v . 

The Jubilee of Acadia College 

LYRICS:— 

Charles River, by the Bridge . 
The Whaling Town 
Flood Tide .... 

I Watch the Ships . . . . 

Foundry Fires .... 
The Old New England Meeting House . 
At Grandmother's 
Children of the Sun 



PAGR 

3 
8 
II 
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«9 
as 
a8 

3» 
36 
4« 



47 
5» 
53 
55 

58 
60 

63 

66 



^iii CONTENTS. 




Fairy Folk 


68 


The Street Organ ... 


7« 


The Angel Sleep 


7» 


The Roots of the RoMs 


74 


Chance Meetings 


75 


The Poet Parsed My Way . 


77 


The Voyage of Sleep 


78 


Gems That Are Rarest 


8o 


La Douleur du Peintre 


Si 


Sometime ..... 


84 


'Twere Better to Love . 


86 


The Hearth is Cold .... 


87 


After Separation .... 


88. 


I Plucked a Daisy .... 


89 


The Meadow Lands 


9» 


Small and Great .... 


9» 


Life 


93 


It Matters Much .... 


94 


Not in Vain .... 


96 


To a Doubter .... 


98 


The Suicide .... 


100 


An Answer ..... 


103 


Despondency .... 


104 


A Fire of Straw .... 


los 


Reabsotption into Deity 


106 


Eder's Watchlower .... 


109 


Day of the Triumphant Sun . 


113 



CONTENTS. 



68 . 
71 
1* 
74 

n 

77 
78 
So 
ft 

84 

8d 

87 



89 

91 
9» 
93 
94 
96 
98 
100 
102 
104 

105 
106 
109 
113 



Mv Purest Longings Spring 
Brotherhood 

• • • 

The Ancient Gods are Dead 
O Easter Queen . 
Fountains Abbey 
To Lord Hamilton of Dalzell 

SONNBTS : — 

O Restless Poet Soul 

The Awakening . 

Love's Slavery 

Separation 

Pain . 

Love Letters 

The Virgin's Shrine 

IfChrist were Here 
A Dream of Christ. No. I 
No. II 
Deepening the Channel 
Matthew Arnold . 
Elisha Mulford 
Harvard Commencement 



ix 

"5 
117 
119 

133 

1 38 



«3S 

136 
»37 

138 

»39 
140 

MI 
143 

143 
M4 
MS 

146 

M7 

148 



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11 



ACADIAN LEGENDS. 



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THE NAMING OF THE GASPEREAU. 

ABOUT 1673. 

j^OW the rainbow tints of autumn 

Deck the ancient hills 
And the dreamy river saunters 

Past the lazy mills, 
Let us seek the murmuring forest 

Where the pines and hemlocks grow 
And a thousand fringed shadows 
Fall upon the Gaspereau. 

When the old Acadian farmers, 

Sailing up the Bay, 
Landed with their goods and cattle 

On the fair Grand Pre, 
Wandering through the ancient forest 

Claude, Rene, and. Theriot, 
In a vale of matchless beauty 

Found the River Gaspereau. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS ANP LYRICS. 

Found the lithe and dark-skinned Micmac, 

In his birch canoe, 
Paddling down his Magapskegechk 

To the Basin blue, 
Little dreaming of the presence 

Of the Indian's pale-faced foe 
Singing unmelodious boat-songs 

On the winding Gaspereau. 

Midst the brushwood and the rushes 

And the trembling ferns, 
Where the River, sighing, singing, 

Speeds with many turns 
Through the gateway of the mountains 

Toward the meadows far below, 
On they crept in silent wonder 

By the sun-kissed Gaspereau. 

These were days of dream and legend, 

Continents were new. 
Here the humble Norman peasants 

Into poets grew; 
From their roaming in the forest 

Claude, Rene, and Theriot 



I!' 



THE NAMING OF THE GASPEREAU. 



Brought their comrades rapt descriptions 
Of the vale of Gaspereau. 

Then around the hemlock fire, 

In the cabin rude, 
With their stock of cheese and brown-bread 

And their ale, home-brewed, 
Gathered all the Norman peasants; 

And at last Rene said low: 
" Let us name the new-found river 

Gaspdre-water, Gaspereau ! " 

Gaspere was the gentlest comrade 

In their little band, 
None so buoyant, none so eager 

^ T the Acadian land ; 

- ere half the voyage was over. 

In the wastes of summer seas, 
Suddenly there crept beside him 

Some old shadow of disease. 

There was mourning in the vessel, 

Strong men sobbed and cried. 
When one evening, just at sunset, 

Their loved Gaspare died ; 



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A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. 



There was wailing in the vessel 
As, with trembling voice and slow, 

Pere Deschambault read the death-prayers 
As the still form sank below. 

Dreary seemed the voyage thereafter 

On the cruel sea, 
Till they reached the smiling meadows 

Of fair Acadie. 
Never rose their songs at evening, 

For the flame of hope burned low; — 
So they named the lovely river. 

With fond memory, Gaspereau ! 

Thence, in summer, when the plowing 

In the fields was done, 
And the busy looms were growing 

Silent, one by one, 
Many a lover in the moonlight, 

Speaking tender words and low, 
Sought the path across the meadows 

To the quiet Gaspereau. 

When there came some loss or sorrow 
To the little band; 



THE NAMING OF THE GASPEREAU. 



When the dykes broke, or the crops failed 

In the Acadian land, 
Many a tired wife and mother, 

All her spirit dark with woe, 
Sought relief from her forebodings 

By the peaceful Gaspereau. 

Vanished are the Acadian peasants, 

Sweet Evangeline, 
Gabriel, Benedict, and Basil, 

And no sadder scene 
Ever gave itself to story. 

Than that scene of wreck and woe, 
When the English ships weighed anchor 

In the mouth of Gaspereau. 

Still it flows among the meadows, 

Singing as of yore 
To the ferns and trailing mosses 

On the winding shore; 
To the pines that dip their branches 

In the crystal wave below. 
And the crimson leaves of autumn 

falling in the Gaspereau. 



I ' 

ill 



A CA or A N LEGENDS A ND L YRTCS. 



L'ORDRE DE BON TEMPS. 

T^WO hundred years ago and more 

"*■ In History's romance, 
The white flag of the Bourbons flew 
From all the gates of France. 

And even on these wild Western shores 
Rock-clad and forest-mailed, 

The Bourbon name, King Henry's fame 
With "Vive le Roi" was hailed. 

O " Vive le Roi ! " and "Vive le Roi ! " 
Those wild adventurous days 

When brave Champlain and Poutrincourt 
Explored the Acadian bays. 






! i! 



When from Port Royal's rude-built walls 

Gleamed o'er the hills afar 
The golden lilies of the shield 

Of Henry of Navarre. 



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VORDRE DE BON TEMPS. 



A gay and gallant company 

Those voyagers of old 
Whose life in the Acadian fort 

Lescarbot's verse has told. 

Their " Order of Good Times " was formed 

For mirth and mutual cheer; 
And many a tale and many a song 

Beguiled that winter drear. 

Aye, while the snow lay softly o'er 

The meadows crisp and bare, 
And hooded all the clustering hills 

Like nuns of Saint-Hilaire, 



Each day they spread a goodly feast 

Not anywise too poor 
For cafes of the nobles in 

The famous Rue Aux Ours. 

And as the old French clock rang out. 

With echoes musical, 
Twelve silvery strokes, the hour of noon, 

Through the pine-scented hall, 



Im 



10 



A CA D/A N LEGE^VDS AND L VRICS. 



The Master of the Order came 
To serve each hungry guest, 

A napkin o'er his shoulder thrown, 
And flashing on his breast, 

A collar decked with diamonds, 
Fair pearls, turquoises blue; 

While close behind in warrior dress 
Walked old chief Membertou. 



Then wine went round and friends were pledged, 

With gracious courtesy. 
And ne'er was heard one longing word 

For France beyond the sea. 

O days of bold adventure past; 

O gay, adventurous men. 
Your "Order of Good Times" I think 

Shall ne'er be seen again ! 



1 

i I 



THE LEGEND OF GLOOSCAP. 



11 



THE LEGEND OF GLOOSCAP. 

"Daring its breast to the sun as of yore 

Lieth the peaceful Acadian shore; 
Fertile and fair, in the dew and the rain, 
Ripen its fields of golden grain. 

Like a sabred sentinel grim and gray 
Blomidon stands at the head of the Bay, 
And the famous Fundy tides at will 
Sweep into Minas Basin siill. 

From its home in the hills the Gaspereau 
Sings as it strays to the sea below. 
Wanders on till it wakes in the tide 
A muddy river, deep and wide. 



Here at the edge of the ancient wood 
Is the spot where Basil's smithy stood; 
Close to these clustering willows green 
Was the home of his love, Evangeline. 






i!;! 



■T«i 



19 



I I 



A CA DIA N L EG ENDS A ND L YRICS. 



This is the old Acadian shore 

Prized by the poet more and more 

As he lives in the loves and hopes, and hears 

Silvery strains from the silent years. 

Long ere the Frenchmen drove away 
The cruel tides from the fair Grand Pre, 
And bound the dykes like emerald bands 
Round the Acadian meadow lands, 

The Micmac sailed in his birch canoe 
Over the Basin calm and blue, 
With salmon spear to the lakeside crept, 
Then by his wigwam fire slept. 

Far in the depths of the forest gray 
Hunted the moose the livelong day; 
While the Micmac mother crooned to her child 
Forest folk-songs weird and wild. 

Over the tribe with jealous eye 
Watched the Great Spirit from on high; 
In the purple mists of Blomidon 
The god-man, Glooscap, had his throne. 



« 



THE LEGEND OF GLOOSCAP. 



II 



No matter how far his feet might stray 
From the favorite haunts of his tribe away, 
The Micmac's cry of faith or fear 
Failed not to find his Glooscap's ear. 

' Twas he who had made for the Indian's use 
Beaver and bear, and sent the moose 
Roaming over the wild woodlands; 
He who had strewn upon the sands 

Of the tide-swept shore of the stormy bay 
Amethysts purple, and agates gray; 
And into the heart of love had flung 
That which keeps love ever young. 

Then the Frenchmen came, a thrifty band. 
Who felled the forest and sowed the land, 
And drove from their haunts by the sunny shore 
Micmac and moose* forevermore. 

And Glooscap, the god-man, sore distrest, 
Hid himself in the unknown West, 
And the Micmac kindled his wigwam fire 
Far from the grave of his child and his sire. 






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14 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



Where now as he weaves his basket gay, 
And paddles his birch canoe away, 
He dreams of the happy time for men 
When Glooscap shall come to his tribe again. 



THE DEPARTURE Oh GLOOSCAP. 



15 



THE DEPARTURE OF GLOOSCAP. 

T ONG ago before the Frenchman 

■*-^ Stemmed the mighty tides of Fundy, 

Steered his bark to Minas Basin, 

Blue and peaceful as to-day; 
Long before the workman's hammer 
Rang its busy strokes at morning 
On the rude walls of the cabin 

Rising near the fair Grand Pre, 

Glooscap left his loving subjects, 
Bade farewell to Megumaage, 
Holding first a parting banquet 

On the Minas Basin shore ; 
Thither came the wolves and beavers, 
Came the martens and the foxes 
And the white owls and the turtles 

And the loons and many more. 

And they feasted long, but sadly, 
Till a gleam of silver moonlight. 



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16 



ACADIAN LEGEITDS AND L YRICS. 



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Shooting o'er the silent water, 

Lighted frowning Blomidon. 
Then uprose the mighty Glooscap, 
Left the feast, and moving swiftly 
As the West Wind when it travels 
Through the giant pines alone, 

' Bade the tide return to seaward, 
Pushed his great canoe upon it, 
Glided off upon the Basin, 

Singing sadly as he went; 
And the people of the forest, 
All the wolves and bears and beavers, 
Listening to the song of Glooscap, 
Gazed in silent wonderment. 

Till his voice grew faint and fainter. 
And the water of the Basin 
Rippling in th? silver moonlight 

Was the only sound they heard. 
Then the wolves and bears and beavers, 
Who till now had all been brothers. 
Lost the gift of common language. 

And no longer beast and bird 



! ! 
i I 



THE DEPARTURE OF GLOOSCAP. 



If 



Lived in peace in Megumaage, 
But with hatred of each other 
Fled into the darkest forest 

Where the wild menichkul grow, 
And the great white-owl in anguish 
Wailed " koo-koo-shoes " ! I am sorry, 
And the loons beloved of Glooscap 

Uttered strange, wild notes of woe. 

There was wailing in the forest, 

There were sobs among the pine boughs. 

Lamentations deep and dreadful 

From the oak trees on the hills; 
All the flowers with choking voices 
Told their sorrow to each other, 
Mournful sang Seboo. the river, 

And the little laughing rills. 

For they knew at last was over 

All the happy reign of Glooscap, 

Whose right hand had taught the Micmac 

All the useful arts he knew. 
Whose fierce bow had slain the giant. 
Killed Chenoo the icy-hearted, 



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18 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



And the great Wind-Bird, Wuchowsen, 
And the terrible Culloo. 



i I 



So he left them, mighty Glooscap, 
And they tell us he is making 
Arrows in his lofty wigwam 

Far beyond the setting sun, 
Arrows of the birch and poplar 
For some dreadful day of battle, 
When the Micmac's foes shall perish 

And his wanderings be done. 

And they tell us some have found him. 
After seven years of seeking. 
In the forests of the sunset 

Where there dwell no Micmac men; 
They have feasted in his wigwam, 
Where he lives in peace and plenty. 
And have heard his faithful promise 

That he shall return again. 



' ! 



THE RESE TTLEMENT OF A CA DIA . 



19 



THE RESETTLEMENT OF ACADIA. 

'T^HE rocky slopes for emerald had changed their 

■*■ garb of gray 
When the vessels from Connecticut came sailing up the 

Bay; 
There were diamonds on every wave that drew the 

strangers on, 
And wreaths of wild arbutus round the brows of Blo- 

midon. 



Five years in desolation the Acadian land had lain, 

Five golden harvest moons had wooed the fallow fields 
in vain, 

Five times the winter snows caressed, and summer sun- 
sets smiled 

On lonely clumps of willows, and fruit trees growing 
wild. 



I 



There was silence in the forest and along the Minas 

shore. 
And not a habitation from Canard to Beau Sejoar, 






.1 

b8^ 



80 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L VR/CS. 



But many a ruined cellar, and many a broken wall, 
Told the story of Acadia's prosperity and fall. 

And even in the sunshine of that peaceful day in June, 
When Nature swept her harp and found her strings in 

perfect tune, 
The land seemed calling wildly for its owners far away, , 
The exiles scattered on the coast, from Maine to 

Charleston Bay; 

Where with many bitter longings for their fair homes 

and their dead, 
They bowed their heads in anguish and would not be 

comforted; 
And like the Jewish exiles, long ago, beyond the sea. 
They could not sing the songs of home, in their 

captivity. 

But the simple Norman peasant-folk shall till the land 

no more, 
For the vessels from Connecticut have anchored by the 

shore, 
And many a sturdy Puritan, his mind with Scripture 

stored. 
Rejoices he has found at last, "the garden of the Lord." 






;< i! 



I 



THE RESETTLEMENT OF ACADIA. 



21 



There are families from Tolland, from Killingworth 

and Lyme, 
Gentle mothers, tender maidens, and strong men in 

their prime, 
There are lovers who have plighted Iheir vows in 

Coventry, 
And merry children dancing o'er the vessels' decks in 

glee. 

They come as came the Hebrews into their promised 

land, 
Not as to wild New England's shores came first the 

Pilgrim band; 
The Minas fields were fruitful, and the Gaspereau had 

borne 
To seaward many a vessel with its freight of yellow 

com. 

They come with hearts as true as are their manners 

blunt and cold 
To found a race of noblemen of stem New England 

mould, 
A race of earnest people whom the coming years shall 

teach 



32 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



The broader ways of knowledge, and the gentler forms 
of speech. 

They come as Puritans, but who shall say their hearts 
are blind 

To the subtle charms of nature, and the love of human- 
kind ? 

The blue laws of Connecticut have shaped their 
thought, tis true. 

But human laws can never wholly Heaven's work undo. 

And tears fall fast from many an eye, long time unused 

to weep, 
For o'er the fields lay whitening the bones of cows and 

sheep. 
The faithful cows that used to feed upon the broad 

Grand Pre, 
And with their tinkling bells come slowly home at close 

of day. 

And where the Acadian village stood, its roofs o'er- 

grown with moss, 
And the simple wooden chapel, with its altar and its 

cross. 



fm*-"*/""^- 



THE RESETTLEMENT OF ACADIA, 



83 



And where the forge of Basil sent its sparks toward the 

sky, 
The lonely thistle blossomed, and the fire weed grew 

high. 



The broken dykes have been rebuilt, a century and 

more. 
The cornfields stretch their furrows from Canard to 

Beau Sejour, 
five generations have been reared beside the fair Grand 

Pr^, 
Since the vessels from Connecticut came sailing up the 

Bay. 

And now across the meadows, while the farmers reap 

and sow, 
The engine shrieks its discords to the hills of Gaspereau, 
And ever onward to the sea the restless Fundy tide 
Bears playful pleasure yachts and busy trade ships, side 

by side. 

And the Puritan has yielded to the softening touch of 
time, 






■, •,' 



1 

. .1 



M AC A DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. 

Like him who still content remained in Killingworth 
and Lyme, 

And graceful homes of prosperous men make all the 
landscape fair, 

And mellow creeds and ways of life are rooted every- 
where. 

Aiid churches nestle lovingly on many a glad hill-side, 
And holy bells rings out their music in the eventide; 
But here and there on untilled ground, apart from glebe 

or town, 
Some lone, surviving apple tree stands leafless, bare, 

and brown. 

And many a traveller has found, as thoughtlessly he 

strayed, 
Some long-forgotten cellar in the deepest thicket's 

shade, 
And clumps of willows by the dykes, sweet scented, 

fair, and green, 
That seemed to tell again the story of Evangeline. 



I 



\ 



1 ^j 



VILE SAINTE CROIX. 



-side, 

de; 

glebe 

bare, 

ly he 
;ket's 
nted. 



L'lLE SAINTE CROIX. 

[Where the first French settlement in America was made.] 
Ayl T^ITII tangled brushwood all o'ergrown, 

^ ' And here and there a lofty pine, 
Around whose form strange creepers twine, 
And crags that mock the wild sea's moan; 

And little bays where no ships come, 
Though many a white sail passes by, 
And many a white cloud in the sky 

Looks down and shames the sleeping foam. 

Unconscious on the waves it lies. 
While, midst the golden reeds and sedge 
That, southward, line the water's edge. 

The thrush sings her shrill melodies. 

No human dwelling now is seen 
Upon its rude, unfertile slopes, 
Though many a summer traveller gropes 

For ruins midst the tangled green; 



90 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



And seeks upon the northern shore 
The graves of the adventurous band 
That followed to this western land 

Champlain, De Monts, and Poutrincourt. 

There stood the ancient fort that sent 
Fierce cannon echoes through the wold, 
There waved the fiourbon flag that told 

The mastery of a continent. 

There through the pines the echoing wail 
Of ghostly winds was heard at eve, 
And hoarse, deep sounds like those that heave 

The breasts of stricken warriors pale. 

There Huguenots and cassocked priests, 

And noble-born and sons of toil, 

Together worked the barren soil, 
And shared each other's frugal feasts. 

And heard across the sailless sea 
A strange, prophetic harvest tune. 
And saw beneath the yellow moon 

The golden reapings that should be. 



I 



L'lLE SAINTE CROIX. 



87 



Till stealthy winter through the reeds 
Crept, crystal. footed, to the shore, 
And to the little hamlet bore 

His hidden freight of deadly seeds. 

Spring came at last, and o'er the waves 
The welcome sail of Pontgrave ; 
But half the number silent lay, 

Death's pale first-fruits, in western gravea 

Sing on, wild sea, your sad refrain, 
For all the gallant sons of France, 
Whose songs and sufferings enhance 

The romance of the western main. 

Sing requiems to these tangled woods, 
With ruined forts and hidden graves; 
Your mournful music history craves 

For many of her noblest moods. 



/ 



I 



28 



A CA n/A N LEGENDS AND L VKfCS. 



THE PHANTOM LIGHT OF THE BAIE DES 

CHALEURS. 

J'T^IS the laughter of pines that swing and sway 

•*■ Where the breeze from the land meets the breeze 

from the bay, 
'Tis the silvery foam of the silver tide 
In ripples that reach to the forest side; 
'Tis the fisherman's boat, in a track of sheen 
Plying through tangled seaweed green, 

O'er the Bale des Chaleurs. 

Who has not heard of the phantom light 
That over the moaning waves, at night, 
Dances and drifts in endless play, 
Close to the shore, then far away. 
Fierce as the flame in sunset skies. 
Cold as the winter light that lies 

On the Bale des Chaleurs. 

They tell us that many a year ago, 

From lands where the palm and the olive grow. 






THE PHANTOM LIGHT. 



29 



:s 



ze 






Where vines with their purple clusters creep 
Over the hillsides gray and steep, 
A knight in his doublet, slashed with gold, 
Famed, in that chivalrous time of old. 
For valorous deeds and courage rare. 
Sailed with a princess wondrous fair 
To the Bale des Chaleurs. 

That a pirate crew from some isle of the sea, 
A murderous band as e'er could be, 
With a shadowy sail, and a flag of night. 
That flaunted and flew in heaven's sight, 
Sailed in the wake of the lovers there. 
And sank the ship and its freight so fair 
In the Bale des Chaleurs. 



\i 



Ni 



Strange is the tale that the flshermen tell; 
They say that a ball of fire fell 
Straight from the sky, with crash and roar, 
Lighting the bay from shore to shore; 
Then the ship, with shudder and with groan, 
Sank through the waves to the caverns lone 
Of the Bale des Chaleurs. 



I ' 



I 



80 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



That was the last of the pirate crew; 
But many a night a black flag flew 
From the mast of a spectre vessel, sailed 
By a spectre band that wept and wailed 
For the wreck they had wrought on the sea, on the land. 
For the innocent blood they had spilt on the sand 
Of the Bale des Chaleurs. 

This is the tale of the phantom light 
That fills the mariner's heart, at night. 
With dread as it gleams o'er his path on the bay. 
Now by the shore, then far away, 
Fierce as the flame in sunset skies, 
Cold as the winter moon that lies 
On the Baie des Chaleurs. 






MARGUERITE AND THE ISLE OF DEMONS. 81 



Id, 






P 



MARGUERITE AND THE ISLE OF DEMONS. 
► AST the coral reefs and islands 

In blue, palm-fringed Southern seas, 
Toward the great St. Lawrence, gaily 

Sped a French ship in the breeze. 
Bearing northward priests and nobles, 

High- burn women, soldiers tall, 
Midst them, ever stern and gloomy. 
The proud viceroy, Roberval. 

Many a day, dark-browed and silent. 

He the men and maids would meet 
On the vessel's deck, and always 

Toward his niece, fair Marguerite, 
Send fierce glances, as when storm-clouds 

Shoot into the tropic sky. 
Driving bright-winged birds for shelter 

To the mango-forests high. 

And the haughty women gave her 
Looks of pity or of scorn, 



- H 



\\ 



A CA DIA AT LEGENDS AND L VRICS. 

For her troth had long been plighted 

To a lover, humbly-born. 
Brave, but wild and pleasure-loving 

As the young stag on the moor. 
Seeking now some new adventure 

On this tomance-breathing shore. 

Ever northward sailed the vessel 

Many and many an ocean mile, 
Toward the mouth of the St. Lawrence 

And the blue straits of Belleisle, 
Where to lonely shores and islands 

Silver sea-birds come in flocks, 
And the white surf, fiercely foaming. 

Breaks upon the sullen rocks. 

Suddenly the Isle of Demons, 

Hardly half a league away. 
Loomed before them, and the Viceroy 

Sternly called: " Come here, I pray." 
And his niece obeyed, and trembling 

Stood before him near the rail. 
And the other maidens, watching. 

Saw her face grow deathly pale. 






I 



MARGUERITE AND THE ISLE OF DEMONS. 83 



Not a word he spoke, but only, 

With that fierce light in his eye, 
Pointed to the Isle of Demons; 

Then he turned, and presently 
Came the white sailed ship to anchor, 

And above the wild surf's roar 
Marguerite heard mocking voices: 

*' Dwell with us forevermore ! " 

As the mother soothes her baby. 

When its cry grows worse and worse, 
Now, with loving looks, hung o'er her 

Old Marie, her Norman nurse. 
And her tears fell with the maiden's. 

As she sobbed " Ma belle petite. 
Old Marie will share the exile 

Of her little Marguerite." 

Then the women wept and pleaded 
With the Viceroy, Roberval, 

And the men, but he unyielding. 
Gave no heed to them at all; 

And they watched her as the rowers 
Bore her up the distant bay. 



'i' 






I f 



I 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. 

While the ship lay fast at anchor 
Almost half a league away. 

How the demons pressed about her; 

How they mocked her woman's woe; 
From the gray cliflFs rang their laughter 

To the echoing caves below. 
How she saw the flowers tremble 

Where they danced with death- shod feet, 
Heard their jarring voices call her: 

" Marguerite, O, Marguerite! " 

Th^5 '\\ty gathered closer round her, 

Gre * and small, to do her harm; 
But the 'v i.giii-Mother sheltered 

Marguerite with her right-arm; 
And she fought them, and grew stronger 

Ever as she kneeled to pray. 
Till at last the demons, shrieking, 

Fled into the woods away. 

And ere long she grew so holy. 

That they shunned her in affright, 
Never spoke her name save only 






n\ 






MARGUERITE AND THE ISLE OF DEMONS. 



35 



On the distant cliffs at night. 
So she lived three lonely summers, 

Longing for some happy chance, 
That might give her back her lover, 

On the sunny shores of France. 

Till a little fishing vessel 

From some port beyond the sea, 
Drifting near the Isle of Demons, 

Gave the maid her liberty, 
And the good queen and the nobles 

Hastened her return to greet. 
And her faithful lover welcomed 

To his heart his Marguerite. 






IP 



I 



\h 



! 



V 



se 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



' * 
' -J 

! S 



DE SOTO'S LAST DREAM. 

/~'\ N a shadowy plain where cypress groves 
^^ And spreading palm trees rise, 
And the antlered deer, swift-footed, roves. 
The brave De Soto lies. 

They have made him a bed, where overhead 

The trailing moss entwines 
With the leaves of the campion flower red 

And gleaming ivy vines. 

Over his fevered forehead creeps, 

From the cedar branches high. 
The wind that sleeps in the liquid deeps 

Of the changeless southern sky. 

And the Mississippi's turbid tide, 

Broad and free, flows past. 
Like the current wide, on which men glide 

To another ocean vast. 



I 



DE SOTO'S LAST DREAM. 



37 



He dreams of the days in sunny Spain 
When heart and hope were strong, 

And he hears again, on the trackless main. 
The sound of the sailor's song. 

Now. with the fierce Pizarro's band. 

To wield the sword anew. 
He takes command on the golden sand 

Of the shores of proud Peru. 

And northward now. from Tampa Bay, 
With glittering spear and lance. 

With pennons gay, and horses' neigh, 
His cohorts brave advance. 

Again, as the glittering dawn awakes 
From its dreams of purple mist, 

By the stoldd priests he kneels and takes 
The holy eucharist. 

And the echoing woods and boundless skies 

Are hushed to soft content, 
As the strains of the old Te Deum rise 

On a new continent. 



11: 



rr 



*'*• 



!l I 



86 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



Again he sees in the thicket damp, 
By the light of a ghastly moon, 

The crocodile, foul from his native swamp, 
Plunge in the dark lagoon. 

Again, o'er the wild savannas flee, 
From his feet, the frightened deer. 

And the curlews scream, from tree to tree, 
Their strange, wild notes of fear. 

Over the rich magnolia blooms 
Floats, 'neath the evening skies, 

Drunk with their soft and sweet perfumes, 
The bird of paradise. 

The wild macaw, on her silken nest, 
Midst the orange blossoms white, 

From her scarlet breast and golden crest, 
Flashes the noon-day light. 

In the waving grass, on the yucca spires. 

Flowers of pallid hue 
Blend with erythrina's fires. 

And the starry nixia's blue. 



\ 



DE SOTO'S LAST DREAM. 



The rich gordonia blossom swells 

Where the brooklet ripples by, 
And the silvery white halesia bells 

Reflect the cloudless sky. 

* 

And southern mosses, soft and brown, 

With gleaming ivies twine, 
And heavy purple blooms weigh down 

The wild wistaria vine. 

Now on his bold Castilian band 

The native warriors press. 
From their haunts in the trackless prairie land, 

And the unknown wilderness; 

And the flame he has kindled gleams again 

On his sword of trusty steel. 
As he burns, midst the yells of savage men, 

Their village of Mobile. 



Like the look of triumph o'er victories won 

That dying conquerors wore. 
Or the light that bursts from the setting sun 

On some wild, rugged shore. 



10 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. 



The fire of hope lights up anew 
The brave adventurer's brow, 

A roseate flash then death's dull hue, 
And his dream is over now. 

• 

So, on the plain where cypress groves 
And spreading palm trees rise, 

And the antlered deer, swift<footed, roves. 
The brave De Soto dies. 









THE JUBILEE OF ACADIA COLLEGE. 



41 



THE JUBILEE OF ACADIA COLLEGE. 

AUGUST 28. 1888. 

Q MOTHER of our manhood days. 

Proud sons of thine are we, 
As here, from all our scattered ways, 
We keep thy Jubilee. 

Before us lie in purple mist 

The meadows of Grand Pre, 
Thy slopes with hallow memories kissed 

Are fairer far than they. 

Across the fields of golden corn 

Faint shadows come and go, 
No cloud hangs o'er thy harvest morn, 

Or dims thy sunlight glow. 

To thee all laurelled deeds we bring 

Our hearts or hands have done. 
Here at thy feet the first buds fling 

Of worthier works begun. 



ill 



48 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L VRICS. 



\ 



w 



Weep'st thou thy elder sons ? We own, 

So pure their memories shine, 
The brightest jewels in thy crown 

Are those first sons of thine. 

Patient they wrought with toil and prayer, 

Ere fell the twilight gray; 
In worlds unseen may they not share 

This joy of ours to-day ? 

The riper years from which we wring 

Wide creeds and wider cares, 
Are ripe indeed if they but bring 

Devotion such as theirs. 

From out these halls where first we learned 
The power of thought to know, 

Where first our restless being burned 
With intellectual glow. 

New sons of thine are going still; 

O mother, may they be 
Men to whom Time may safely will 

An untried century. 



THE JUBILEE OP ACADIA COLLEGE, 



43 



In spheres where scatteied rays of good, 
Like wandering stars shall meet. 

Glad worlds, wherein the brotherhood 
Of man shall be complete. 

Set thou their steps, nor let them pause 
Till thought's sweet chimes be rung 

From every hill, and Nature's laws 
By every soul be sung. 

So the strong sceptre of the years 
Thy woman's hand shall wield. 

While ancient error disappears, 
And ancient wrongs are healed 

O mother of our manhood days, 

Proud sons of thine are we. 
As here from all our scattered ways 

We keep thy Jubilee. 



■i';. 



% 



. \ - 



)(! 



BBS 



, 



CHARLES RIVER, BY THE BRIDGE. 



47 



I 



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\) 



CHARLES RIVER. BY THE BRIDGE. 

T Tl 7 ITH finest mimicry of wave and tide, 

• '^ Of ocean storm and current setting free, 
Here by the bridge the river deep and wide, 
Lashing the reeds along its muddy marge, 
Speeds to the wharf the dusky coaling barge, 
And dreams itself a commerce- quickening sea. 

East lies the city, clustering its cold spires 
Against a cloudless sky, one gilded dome 

Seen everywhere, as if a hundred fires 

Held jubilee upon the ancient height 

Where once a solitary beacon light. 
In peace unkindled, guarded freedom's home. 

Unlovely meadows westward meet the eye, 

Brown, silty, sere, where driftwood from the mills 
Is thrown, as Spring's full flood sweeps by. 
And weeds grow rank as on the wild sea-marsh, 
And lonely cries of sea-gulls loud and harsh, 
Pierce evening's silence to the distant hills. 



vl 



'■X 


\; : 






1 

;♦ 






48 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS 



I 



II 

I 



The scene with all its varied, subtle moods, 
My eyes have looked upon so many years, 
That like my mother's songs, or the old woods 
In whose mysterious shade I used to play, 
Dreaming fair child-dreams in the soft noonday, 
It has strange power to waken joy or tears. 

I love the lights upon the farther shore, 
That thicken, as adds silent year to year. 

Long rows of gleaming lamps that more and more 

Remind me of the dear souls gone, not set 

Among cold jewels in God's coronet, 
But radiant still with life and hope and cheer. 

Sometimes inverted 'n the wave they seem 
Like Bagdad's palaces and spires aflame 

With jewels, or the golden towers that gleam 

Amidst the visions of the holy seer 

Who by the blue ^Egean calm and clear, 
Saw things !;oo fair for human lips to name. 

Sometimes when all the river lies in mist. 

So far away those twinkling eyes of flame. 
They seem like memories that still subsist 









CHARLES RIVER, BY THE BRIDGE. 



49 






And glimmer faintly through the shrouded years, 
Through noise and silence, laughter, cries, and tears, 
Of that white world from which our spirits came. 

I cannot watch unmoved the sunset here. 

When swift, volcanic fires of purest gold 
Along the hills of purple mist appear. 
And clouds deep-crimsoned in the day's decline 
Like fairest bridal-garments splashed with wine, 
Lie careless, resting fleecy fold on fold. 

I have no words to shape the things I find 

Told in this glory of the western sky; 
The best thought does not often reach the mind 
Until its splendor has swept o'er the heart 
In waves of feeling. Truth's sublimest art 

Appears in this fine color-symphony. 

There are deep meanings in these changing moods 

Of wave and sky, that I who reverent stand 
Before a flower, and in the strange, old woods 
Hear speech too sacred for the common creeds. 
Try hard to find, as one who reads and reads 
The words of some great prophet in the land. 



n 



M 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



O here is living beauty, like the gleam 
In deep, kind eyes when all the soul is there; 

This dark-arched bridge whereon I dream and dream, 

The lighted shore, the sky, the current free,— 

In them is something of humanity. 
Something of God; that makes the scene so fair. 



\ 






' t 



THE WHALING TOWN. 



SI 



1 






THE WHALING TOWN, 

A DZE and hammer and anvil stroke 
^ *■ Echo not on the shore. 
The wharves are crumbling, old, and gray, 
And the whale ships come no more 

Grass grows thick in the empty streets. 
And moss o'er the blackened roofs. 

And the people are roused to wonderment 
At the sound of horses' hoofs. 

There's not a woman in all the town 

But keeps in memory 
The face of a husband, a lover, a friend 

Lost, she says, at sea. 

Lost in the days when in every storm 
Some well-known ship went down. 

And mothers wept and fathers prayed 
In the little whaling town. 






»• 






68 



A CA DIA N L EG ENDS AND L\ 'A'/CS. 



I Ml 



When every sail tlie children spied 

As they tossed the shining sand, 
Came from the slorchouse of the sea 

With light for all the land. 

And still to the edge of the rotting wharves 

The tides from day to day 
Come with an eager wish to bear 

The whaling ships away. 

And many an aged mariner looks 

Across tlie sparkling sea, 
And dreams that the waves with sails are flecked 

As of old they used to be. 






, 



FLOOD TIDE. 



SS 



FLOOD TIDE. 

npiIE tide came up as the sun went down, 
■*■ And the river was full to its very brim, 

And a little boat crept up to the town 
On the muddy wave, in the morning dim. 

But that little boat with its reed-like oar 
Brought news to the town that made it weep 

And the people were never so gay as before, 
And they never slept so sound a sleep. 



I 



News of a wreck that the boatman had seen 
Off in the bay, in a fierce, wild gale; 

Common enough, such things, I ween, 
Yet the women cried and the men were pale. 

Strange that a little boat could bring 
Tidings to plunge a town in tears; 

Strange how often some small thing 

May shatter and shiver the hope of years. 



it I 



\ » 






. ' "1 



:-' J 



M 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



O, none but the angel with silver wings 
That broods o'er the river and guards the town, 

Heeds half of the woe each evening brings, 
As the tide comes up. and the sun goes down. 



/ tVA TCU THE SHIPS. 



6S 



1 WATCH THE SHIPS. 
T WATCH the ships by town and lea 
•*• With sails full set glide out to sea, 
Till by the distant light-house rock 
The breakers beat with roar and shock 
And foam fierce flying o'er their decks, 
While deep below lie ocean's wrecks; 
What careth she. 

I stand beside the beaten quay 
And look while laden ships from sea 
Come proudly home upon the tide 
Like conquering kings at eventide, 
Or from fierce fights with wintry gales 
Steal shoreward now with tattered sails; 
O cruel sea. 



i; ' 



■ 



\i 



I pass once more the old gray pier 
Where men have waited many a year 
For ships that ne'er again shall glide 
By town and lea on favoring tide, 






W 



\ : 



••: 



t 

II 



u 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



Strong ships that struggled till the gales 
Of winter hid their shrouds and sails 
In ocean drear. 

Soft sailing spirits, how they glide 
Forth on life's fitful sea untried 
To breast the waves and bear the shocks 
Beyond the guarded light-house rocks, 
To strive and struggle many a year; 
Strong souls, indeed, if they can bear 
Life's wind and tide. 



I 



: 



I watch beside life's beaten quay 
The tides bring back all joyously 
To anchor by the sheltered shore 
Some frei hted full with golden store 
From rich spice fields and perfumed sands 
Of soft, luxuriant tropic lands; 
O kindly sea. 



[ 



But some have met with wintry gales. 
And come at last with shatten d sails 
To anchor by the old, gray pie.-; 



/ IVA TCH THE SHIPS. 



ST 



While loving ones in hope and fear 
Wait on for some that nevermore 
Shall anchor by a peaceful shore; 
O sad, sad sea ! 



fi 






\l 






M 



t I 



t ,.• 



f 



68 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



FOUNDRY FIRES. 

Q* EE the foundry fires gleaming 
^^ With a strange and lurid light, 
Listen to the anvils ringing 

Measured music on the night ; 
Clanking, clinking, never shrinking. 

Strike the iron, mould it well! 
On the progress of the nations 

Each persistent stroke shall tell. 

Showers of fiery sparks are falling 

Thick about the workmen's feet. 
Some are carried by the night wind 

Far along the winding street; 
Clanking, clinking, never shrinking. 

Labor lifts her arm on high. 
And the sparks fly from her anvils 

Out upon the darkened sky. 

In the quickened glow of feeling, 
'Neath the anvil strokes of thought. 



FOUNDRY FIRES. 



Ancient errors disappearing, 

Nobler creeds to birth are brought; 

Clanking, clinking, never shrinking. 
Strike the truth, yea mould it well! 

On the progress of the nations 
Each persistent stroke shall tell. 

Crude the mass time's fiery forges 

At your eager feet have hurled, 
Centuries of toil must follow 

Ere ye shape a perfect world; 
Yet with clanking, clanking, clinking, 

Strike the iron, shape the truth; 
Science is indeed begiwning, 

Thought is in its lusty youth. 

O ye forgemen of the nations, 

Keep the world's great fires alight, 
Let the sparks fly from your anvils 

All along the roads of night; 
Clanking, clinking, never shrinking. 

Work till stars fade, and the morn 
Of a wider faith and knowledge 

In the radiant East is born. 



/ ,1 

1 ■ 



W 

r 



00 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



THE OLD NEW ENGLAND MEETING HOUSE. 



Q* TANDING alone on the country side, 
*^ Calmly disdaining its walls to hide 
Under the garb of vine or tree, 
Year after year it frowned at me. 

A square-walled church devoid of a spire, 
With a lofty gallery for the choir, 
Who sang with many an odd inflexion 
Hymns from a very old collection. 

Many a time I have sat as a child 

And listened until my ears were wild 

To the basses and tenors with nasal sound, 

Through fine old fugue-tunes marching round. 

There was a pulpit square and high. 
Massively built in days gone by. 
With a damask curtain dingy red, 
And a winding stair that upward led. 



! t 



THE OLD NEW ENGLAND MEETING HOUSE. 61 

Pews that never were built to please 
Prosperous saints who love their ease, 
Stood by the aisles with sides so tall 
The children could hardly see at all. 

Silently down in the old square pews, 
As the thirsty earth waits heaven's dews, 
The people sat, while the preacher hurled 
Righteous wrath at the wicked world; 

Or from the words of Jesus read 
Gentler things, and softly said 
"Now let us pray," so closed his eyes 
And lifted his face toward the skies. 



il 



To the test of a pulseless plan he brought 
Every phase of modern thought. 
Nor dreamed that his Calvinistic creed 
Was not as wide as human need. 

Some in the church, he knew them well, 
Were far on the downward way to hell; 
They listened like saints and dead to fear, 
Sat through the sermons year by year. 



! ffa 






■■M 



Hi 



62 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L VR/CS. 



But some by the barren service there 
He knew ware moved to faith and prayer, 
On heavenly hopes their hunger fed 
And their hearts were always comforted. 

The preacher safe in his home on high, 
The day of the church at length went by; 
The younger people watched it fall, 
Gallery, pulpit, pews, and all. 

With hardly a thought. Perhaps their creed 
Had somewhat changed, since they felt the need 
Of buttress and arch and spire and bell 
As aids to rescue souls from h^ll. 



I pass by the place, but all is new; 
I close my eyes, and there in view 
Stands once more on the country side 
The strange old church in all the pride 

Of its barren walls and pulpit high; 
And I think how soon shall all go by 
Customs and creeds that have no fear 
That a judgment day for them is near. 



A T GRANDMOTHER'S. 



AT GRANDMOTHER'S. 

T T NDER the shade of the poplars still. 
^^ Lilacs and locusts in clumps between, 
Roses over the window sill, 
Is the dear old house, with its door of green. 

Never were seen such spotless floors. 

Never such shining rows of tin, 
While the rose-leaf odors that came thro' the doors, 

Told of the peaceful life within. 



Here is the room where the children slept, 
Grandmother's children tired with play, 

And the famous drawer where the cakes were kept, 
Shrewsbury cookies, and caraway. 

The garden walks where the children ran 
To smell the flowers and learn their names, 

The children thought, since the world began 
Were never such garden walks (or games. 



1) 



04 



A CAD/AN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



There were tulips and asters in regular lines, 
Sweet-williams and marigolds on their stalks, 

Bachelors' buttons and sweet-pea vines, 
And box that bordered the narrow walks. 

I uro white lilies stood cornerwise 
From sunflowers yellow and poppies red. 

And the summer pinks louked up in surprise 
At the kingly hollyhocks overhead. 

Morning glories and larkspur stood 

Close to the neighborly daffodil; 
Cabbage roses and southernwood 

Roamed thro* the beds at their own sweet will. 



Many a year has passed since then. 

Grandmother's house is empty and still, 

Grandmother's babies have grown to men. 
And the roses grow wild o'er the window-sill. 

Never again shall the children meet 

Under the poplars gray and tall, 
Never again shall the careless feet 

Dance thro' the rose-leaf scented hall. 



I I 



A T GRANDMOTHER'S. 



6S 



Grandmother's welcome is heard no more, 
And the children are scattered far and wide, 

And the world is a larger place than of yore, 
But hallowed memories still abide. 

And the children are better men to-day 

For the cakes and rose-leaves and garden walks, 

And grandmother's welcome so far away, 
And the old sweet-williams on their stalks. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 

A SUNFLOWER tall by the garden wail 
Scornfully nodded his head 
To a brilliant poppy whose cheeks below 
Were all aflame with a crimson glow. 

" I am the child of the sun," he smiled, 

" His color is mine, you see; 
Yellow am I to my outmost rim, 
While you — how little you look like him." 

But the poppy gay still blushing away, 

(And laughing a little too,) 
Quietly answered "The sun has told 
Me to be red, and you to be gold. 

" The morning's hush, and the poppy's blush 

Are dear to the heart of day 
As the noontide hour with its triumphs won, 
And the flower that rivals the glowing sun. 



CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 



'* Heaven is large, and its chiefest charge 

Is that life shall be broad and free, 
And it bids the children of sun and storm 
Ne'er to a single type conform." 

The sunflower wise looked down in surprise 

At the bold little flower below, 
But he learned a lesson there and then 
That needs to be learned by many men. 









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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



FAIRY-FOLK. 

' I ^IME in its mysterious flight 

Circles many a common thing 
With a mystic wreath of light, 
All its earth-stains shadowing. 

In the dimness of the past 
Human faces grow divine, 

The soft shadows deepening fast 
Into living shapes combine. 

From the darkness men advance, 
All their common speech enlarged 

Into sacred utterance 
With portentous meaning charged. 

From the hush of buried years, 
From the silent ages flown, 

Every voice that greets our ears 
Has a strange, prophetic tone. 



FAIRY- FOLK. 



60 



Backward to her legend- lore 
Time with fixed forefinger points, 

And the fairy-tales of yore 
With the oil of truth anoints; 

Bids us think her ages old 

Swarmed with shapes no longer seen, 
Nymphs and gnomes of wood and wold. 

Fauns and fairies on the green. 

Dull indeed the world would be 
Must we search the grottoed plain. 

Dusky wood, or caverned sea 
For these shadowy friends in vain. 

O ye godlike shapes of men. 
Sprites of grove, and sea, and shore, 

Mossy meadow, field, and fen, 
Live with us forevermore. 

Though to science ye are strange. 

Born of faith and mystery. 
Though ye must no longer range 

Fields of sober history. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



Still ye sylphs of ages old, 
Spirits of the woods and storms, 

Elves and ogres, shy and bold, 
Dreadf;^l dragons, fairy forms, 

In our days of childish glee 
Hold high carnival and reign; 

Weave the web of dreams and be 
Ministers to later pain. 



THE STREET ORGAN. 



71 



THE STREET ORGAN. 
A N organ grinding below in the street, 
•*■ *• You smile that I think the music sweet, 
And you think it strange that I love to listen. 
And stranger still that tear-drops glisten 
In my eyes where so seldom a tear is seen. 

Ah, if you knew how many things, 
Like twilight birds with silver wings, 
Came back with these simple airs to me 
Over the leagues of summer sea 
My boyhood self and me between, 

If you knew that a voice I am hungry to hear 
Spoke thro' this music, plaintive, clear, 
That a face appeared as the old tunes play, 
A face I have longed for night and day 
And never see except in my dreams, 

You would not wonder I stop and listen, 
You would not wonder tear-drops glisten 
In my eyes, as down to the street below, 
A few poor pennies I gently throw 

For the grinder to snatch from the passing teams. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



THE ANGEL SLEEP. 

"IX 7" HEN the day is done and the shadows fall 

' ' Over the earth like a dusky pall 
Then from the unknown, silent deep 
Rises the beautiful Angel Sleep. 

Over forest and field he spreads his wings 
Where the cricket chirps and the wood- bird sings, 
And the murmur of voices dies away 
Hushed by the Angel calm and gray. 

The passions of men that surge and swell, 
Are silenced soon 'neath the mystic spell, 
And tired hearts long used to weep 
Yield to the power of the Angel Sleep. 

Softly he broods till Jie day is come. 
Then to his shadows flieth home. 
And the spell is gon i and the world again 
Takes up its burden of care and pain. 



THE ANGEL SLEEP. 



78 



We call him death, 'tis the Angel Sleep 
That comes at last from the silent deep, 
And smooths forever the brow of care, 
And calms the fever of passion there. 

So, we sleep and rest till the morning gray 
Breaks once more, of an endless day, 
And into the dark, mysterious deep 
Flies forever the Angel Sleep. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND L YRICS. 



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THE ROOTS OF THE ROSES. 

nr*HE roses come and the roses go 

"*■ But the roots of the roser. live under the snow, 
Silent their slumber, dreamless, deep. 
But by and by they shall wake from sleep. 

Our pleasures come and our pleasures go, 

But the roots of true joy are hid under the snow, 

The hope of the heart has its Winter drear. 

But the roses come back in the Spring of the year. 

Friendships are born and friendships die, 
But love lasts on, tho' the streams be dry. 
Her beautiful roses may come and go. 
But t-.e roots of the roses live under the snow. 

The roses come and the roses go. 
But the roots of the roses sleep under the snow, 
They are blooming no longer our paths beside, 
But their fragrance shall greet us at Eastertide. 



CHANCE MEETINGS. 



78 



CHANCE MEETINGS. 

A STRANGER in the moving throng 
To whom I said a careless word 
About the weather, or some song, 
Or singer, he and I had heard. 

His answer I have wholly lost 
In separate ways we left the place. 

But I keep what I value most, 
The memory of a human face. 

And still I feel within my heart 
The thrill his touch awakened there, 

As, clasping hands, we moved apart, 
Each ignorant of the other's sphere. 

We are not strangers, you and I, 
Who touch but once each other's hands. 

Amidst the throng whose interests lie 
In many spheres, in many lands. 



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A CA DJA JV I. EG ENDS A AD Li 'RICS. 



The quick, responsive, friendly clasp 
Of hands, the smile our faces wear. 

Have genuine meanings each may grasp. 
They tell the common life we bear. 

No matter where, by chnnce we met. 
The thought is free of time or place, 

I keep what I can ne'er forget — 
The memory of a human face. 



THE POET PASSED MY tVA V. 



V 



THE POET PASSED MY WAY. 

[Written for the tribute to John G. Whittier on his eightieth 
birthday.] 

'T^IIE poet passed my way 

•*■ Bearing great handfuls of fair flowers, 
Pure white with golden gay, 
Plucked from his soul's tilled garden plots and bowers. 

They are but common blooms, 

Fragrant, yet fading like the rest; 
Enough to deck my rooms 

I'll gather, said I, following toward the West. 

But in a moment more, 

Stooping to lift them from the sod, 
I found the poet bore. 

Not flowers, but great thoughts rooted deep in God. 






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A CA D/A N L EG ENDS AND L YRICS. 



THE VOYAGE OF SLEEP. 

T^O sleep I give myself away, 

'*' Unclasp the fetters of the mind, 
Forget the sorrows of the day, 
The burdens of the heart unbind. 

With empty sail this tired bark 
Drifts out upon the sea of rest, 

While all the shore behind grows dark 
And silence reigns from east to west. 

At last awakes the hidden breeze 
That bears me to the land of dreams, 

Where music sighs among the trees, 
And murmurs in the winding streams. 

O weary day, O weary day, 

That dawns in fear and ends in strife, 
That brings no cooling draught to allay 

The burning fever-thirst of life. 



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THE VOYAGE OF SLEEP. 



79 



O sacred night when angel hands 
Are pressed upon the tired brow, 

And when the soul on shining sands 
Descends with angels from the prow. 

To sleep I give myself away, 

My heart forgets its vague unrest, 

And all the clamor of the day. 
And drifts toward the quiet west. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



GEMS THAT ARE RAREST. 

f^ EMS that are rarest 
^-^ Hide in the sea, 
Flowers that are fairest 
Plucked not may be; 

Sunshine the brightest 

Comes after rain, 
Hearts that seem lightest 

Know bitterest pain. 

Truth deepest lying 

Wakes to thy view 
When, self-denying. 

To self thou'rt true. 

Heaven is nearest 
When thou, sin-tossed, 

Gloomily fearest 
Thy soul is lost. 



■i.^HW"'^.''"'-^ — 



LA DOULEUR DV PE/JVTHE. 



LA DOULEUR DU PEINTRE. 
T^ HERE is crape on the studio door 

•■• And none pass in to-day, 
And the sunlight on the floor 
Falls cold and gray; 
And the painter's head on his hands is bent 
In a new and strange bewilderment. 

lie has brought a flower of gold, 

The daffodil of her France, 
It lies in her Angers cold, 
A glittering lance; 
And he lives once more, with her alone, 
The sunny life of Barbizon. 

Together they climb the hill 

And stand in the sunset glow 
And watch while the breezes fill 
The sails below; 
And she bids him compass with his art 
The beautiful things of eye and heart. 



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ACAD/ AN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 

So there come from his willing hand 

Results more swift and true, 
As the harvest ears expand 
In sun and dew; 
And her love makes radiant all his life 
And he blesses God for the gift of his wife. 

But sorrow stands by the shrine 

In the darkest place of his soul, 
And bids him drink the wine 
In her silver bowl; 
And his nerves are wrought with subtle pain, 
And he bows his head in grief again. 

Strange that we never know 

Our own till they are dead; 
That life's best harvests grow 
When life is fled ; 
That love comes not to its second birth 
Till our lips have echoed " Earth to earth." 

Crape on the studio door, 
A cheerless light within, 



LA DOULEUR DU PEINTRB. 



88 



A heart that shall never more 
Know care or sin ; 
And a hand that Hfts not whence it fell 
The brush it was used to wield so well. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



SOMETIME. 
OOMETIME, sometime, 
*^ The clouds of ignorance shall part asunder, 

And we shall see the fair, blue sky of truth 
Spangled with stars, and look with joy and wonder 
Up to the happy dream-lands of our youth, 
Where we may climb. 

Sometime, sometime, 
The passion of the heart we keep dissembling 

Shall free herself, and rise on silver wing, 
And all these broken chords of music, trembling 
Deep in the soul, our lips shall learn to sing, 
A strain sublime. 

Sometime, sometime, 
Love's broken links shall all be reunited, 

But not upon the ashy forge of pain; 
The full-blown roses dead, the sweet buds blighted 
Shall bloom beside life's garden walks again, 
In fairer clime. 



SOMETIME. 



85 



Sometime, sometime, 
The prophet's unsealed lips shall straight deliver 

The message of eternal life uncursed; 
Wind-swept, the poet's heaven-tuned soul shall quiver, 
And from his trembling lyre at length shall burst 
Immortal rhyme. 



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A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L VR/CS. 



'TWERE BETTER TO LOVE. 

" 'Tis better to have loved and lost 
Than never to have loved at all." 

'np WERE belter to love, though the heart be broken, 
"*• Than to sit alone from passion free, 
Never to have a sign or token 
Of the life that deepest lies in thee. 

' Twere better to love, though peace should never 

Softly climb to thy soul again. 
Than to live the blinded life forever 

Of barren-hearted, loveless men. 

' Twere better far that the gates, in shadow, 
Of heaven, should once have come in view 

Than that thou till death, from thy dull meadow, 
Shouldst never have seen the pearl and blue. 



THE HEARTH IS COLD. 



87 






THE HEARTH IS COLD. 
" I ^HE hearth is cold, the fire no more 

■*■ Glows in the twilight gray, 
' Tis colder, colder than before 
The soft flame had its way. 

Love's fire is quenched, its glow is o'er, 

Its ashes now are gray; 
My heart is colder than before 

The glad flame had its way. 

I shall forget it more and more, 

This passion of a day, 
Yet I am glad though it is o'er 

The fire once had its way. 



88 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



AFTER SEPARATION. 
\70U are here, O my love, at my side 
"*" And I struggle to keep 
My starved spirit from reeling 
In the tumult and toss of the tide 

That sweeps in from the unsounded, deep, 
Shoreless ocean of feeling. 

The time has been long, dearest heart, 
But a moment of this 
Would make balance for ages; 
It were kind to keep lovers apart, 

If, at meeting, God give them such bliss 
As comes now^ for our wages. 

I am learning the meaning at last 
Of the speech of my kind. 
Often heard, little heeded; 
Press your lips lo my lips, hold me fast, 
O my love; I was sick, I was blind; 
Heaven knew what I needed. 



/ PLUCKED A DAISY. 



89 



I PLUCKED A DAISY, 

T PLUCKED a daisy by the walk, 
■*■ A white field daisy, carelessly, 
I saw it tremble on its stalk 
And cast a piteous glance at me. 

Its sisters seemed to chide me too, 

As if I had destroyed a life 
That God had given some work to do, 

In earth's wild garden lands of strife. 

And nodding all their golden heads, 
Encased in bonnets snowy white, 

Tears seemed to fall in crystal beads 
From their soft eyes, that summer night. 

O little daisies of the sod. 

One law controls your life and mine, 
Ye are the humblest flowers of God, 

But ye like man are half divine. 



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A CAD/A// LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



And as ye cheer the dusty walk 
And whiten all the meadows fair, 

I see a spirit on each stalk 
That trembles in the dewy air. 

Bloom on in simple faith and joy 

In purity and tenderness, 
I will not needlessly destroy 

Your golden heads and snowy dress. 



II A 



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THE MEADOW LANDS. 



01 



THE MEADOW LANDS. 

nr^IIE tide flows in and out and leaves 
^ Its richness on the meadow lands, 
The furrowed surface-soil upheaves, 
And sprinkles life among the sands. 

Across the meadow lands of life 
The tide of time flows and recedes, 

Its muddy wave brings woe and strife, 
But forms the soil for noble deeds. 

The tide flows in and out and brings 
New beauty to the meadow lands. 

With lavish tenderness it flings 
Fair flowers across the silver sands. 



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A CAD/ AN LEGENDS AND LVR/CS. 



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SMALL AND GREAT. 

HE ripp'e that stirs on the sea of thought, 
As we drop our smallest question there, 
Into the ocean's life is wrought 
And moves it everywhere. 

Who strikes a chord in the human soul, 
Be he laborer, poet, priest, or sage, 

Makes music that rings from pole to pole 
And lasts from age to age. 

The feeblest prayer that to heaven flies 

Has the infinite power in its wing 
And the treasure of peace it brings from the skies 

Is not a foreign thing. 

For all is in each, and each in all. 

All is human and all divine. 
The small is the great, the great the small. 

And truth is mine and thine. 



LIFE. 



93 



LIFE. 

A GOLDEN gleam between the past and present, 
A feeble, flickering, unearthly flame; 
A light that flashes up amidst the darkness 
And fades again as quickly as it came. 

A wave that rises noiseless from the (.cean 

And breaks with soft, sad moaning on the shore; 

A white-capped wave that lifts its crest to heaven 
And sinks into the silent deep once more. 

A sudden, startled strain that strikes at evening 
Tlirough all the slumbering air from hill to hill; 

A strange ciiild-song of mingled mirth and madness 
That wakes a wayward echo, and is still. 

A silver-sheeted spectre-form that wanders 
On some mysterious shore at dead of night, 

A moment weeps its woes, then wingless rises 
Into the chambers of the infinite. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LVKICS. 



IT MATTERS MUCH. 

"1 Tl rHETHER I live in the crowded town 

'^ • Or in open lands beside the sea, 
So long as I live for love's sweet crown 

What diflference can it make to me; 
But whether I feel the trembling touch 
Of the hand of need where'er it be, 
This matters much. 

Whether the winds of fortune blow 

Over my head with soft caress, 
What difference, if I may but know 

I am healing some sid heart's distress; 
But whether I feel the woe of such 

As long for a brother's tenderness, 
This matters muclj. 

For life with its suffering and sin 

Hath little to give of peace or rest, 
And I know the care that hideth in 



U 



IT MA TTERS MUCH. 



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Many and many a tender breast; 
So I pray that God through my hand's touch 
May heal some hearts by grief opprest, 
This matters much. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



NOT IN VAIN. 

"NT O matter how relentlessly 
■*■ The storm sweeps o'er the night, 

Life is not lived in vain if we 
But anchor to the right. 

Life is not lived in vain although 

Our fairest hopes decay, 
And ere we die the lichens grow 

Over their ruins gray. 

Life is not lived in vain if we, 

Amidst the winter's gloom. 
May clothe one barren, leafless tree 

With fragrant summer bloom. 

If we may call the stars again 

Into some darkened sky 
It cannot be that life is vain 

Although its dreams go by. 




For he whose life was most divine 

Had only this success: 
To cause a few hope-rays to shine 

Amidst earth's hopelessness. 



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98 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



TO A DOUBTER. 

T CANNOT say " Believe " to thee 

Whose lips from thought's clear springs have drunk, 
The questions of the age have sunk 
Deep in thy quivering soul, I see. 

For I should hear thee rightly say, 
" Whate'er is true, thy well-turned speech 
Doth not the mind's recesses reach 

Nor light the spirit's hidden way." 

Thy soul for certainty is sick, 

While they who wrangle over forms, 

Untroubled by faith's fiercer storms 
Feed well on sweets of rhetoric. 

I see thee like a long caged bird. 
Thou beat'st thy bars with broken wing, 
And flutter'st, feebly echoing 

The far-off music thou hast heard. 



TO A DOUBTER. 



99 



Oblivion tempts thee, yet be wise, 
Walk on awhile in storm and shade, 
These ghosts that haunt thy feet may fade; 

Thought hath its cock-crow and sunrise. 

Perhaps the unseen plan shall prove 
More than thy noblest longings crave; 
Thy life may sweep beyond the grave 

Into a universe of love, 

Where doubt may cease, wrong turn to right, 
God's diverse ways be reconciled, 
And thou so long His orphan child 

Meet Him upon the hills of light. 



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A CA D/A AT L EC ENDS AND L VRICS. 



THE SUICIDE. 

T T IS heart was breaking, breaking, 
■*• "*■ 'Neath loads of care and wrong; 
Who blames the man for taking 
What life denied so long ? 



She promised rest and gladness; 

She mocked him o'er and o'er ; 
She bathed with seas of sadness 

His spirit's island shore. 

She bade him lightness borrow 
Beneath her trees of yew, 

Though all the dreadful sorrow 
Of the dark world he knew. 

He had no mind to flatter 
An age with falsehood drest; 

She hated him ; no matter, 
The man is now at rest. 



THE SUICIDE. 



101 



He begged for light from heaven, 
No light his soul could see; 

He snatched what was not given; 
He sleeps, now let him be. 

His heart was breaking, breaking 
'Neath loads of care and wrong; 

Heaven must not blame his taking 
What she denied so long. 



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ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS, 



AN ANSWER. 
" A God, a God their severance ruled.** 
'\7' OU tell me that all can be strong and wise, 

•^ That men can choose their fate; — 
This is one of your winning lies, 
It comes to me too late. 

A favored few to the purple bom 

Laugh at the threats of chance; 
Look at the race, oppressed and worn, 

Poor slaves of circumstance. 

We may take what we will from life, you say, 

The whitest bread, or a stone; 
We may walk on the sunniest side of the way. 

Or sit in the shade alone. 

Bread to the hungriest denied, 

Love to the lover's heart, 
Fields uncut at the harvest-tide. 

And reapers, kept apart; 



AN ANSWER. 



108 



I pray you look o'er the walls of your creed, 
{Heaven-builded though they be, ) 

At the shackled shapes of human need, 
Of pain and misery. 

What we are given we have, and fate 
(Name it God if you will) may be kind 

In it all, but she shuts tlie iron gate 
Of her plan, and keeps us blind. 

And, in the future who can tell. 

If life still be not lost. 
Whether we hug the harbor well, 

Or on strange seas are tossed. 

Pause by these silent, salt-waved seas 

That stretch to worlds unseen ; 
Blows to thee here on the landward breeze 

A breath from forests green? 

Then, hope for the best, and pray and pray. 

Since unseen powers there be, 
But do not think that the world to-day 

Wants cheap philosophy. 



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A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. 



DESPONDENCY. 

T ET the age its discords shrill 
^'^ Madly shriek from hill to hill; 
•• Thou art tired, best be still." 

Dost thou think its wrongs to right, 
Wilt thou try to cure its spite ? 
Tears shall quickly blind thy sight. 

Stronger hands than thine have failed, 
Braver hearts than thine have quailed. 
By its weapons coarse assailed. 

Pharisees in Church and state 
Sit in plenty at its gate; 
Prophets do but rouse its hate. 

Custom is the Church's god, 
Greed walks openly abroad; 
Truth sits weeping on the sod. 

Let the age its discords shrill 
Madly shriek from hill to hill; 
Thou art powerless, be still. 



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A FIRE OF STRA IV. 



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A FIRE OF STRAW. 

A FIRE of straw in field or town 

^ *• Obscures the bluest skies, 
To-day's complaining echoes drown 
Time's grandest harmonies. 

One trifling error on the page 

All satisfaction mars; 
So earth's stray swamp-lights more engage 

The mind than heaven's stars. 

Man's deepest instincts bid him rise 

Among the rose-red spheres; 
But some old custom, when he tries, 

Enchains him fast with fears. 

O empty, phosphorescent gleam, 

Swift-fading fire of straw, 
When ye are gone, still lives my dream 

Of worlds of love and law. 



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A CA DIA N L ECEffDS AND L VR/CS. 



REABSORPTION INTO DEITY. 

*' Having obtained tranquillity one is not troubled; and remain- 
ing in it, even at the time of death, he passes on to extinction in 
the Supreme Spmt,"—Bka£yivad Gita. 

'\\JVYli undimmed eye 

'^ • I listen to the wisdom old which saith 
Man shall be reabsorbed in God at death; 
The human spirit is a deep- drawn breath 
Of Him on high. 

No living thing 
Save man, has ever dreamed of higher spheres 
Wherein to taste delights the fleeting years 
Have here denied, or balance this world's fears 

And suffering. 

Sad hearts that pray, 
Soft petaled, crimson flowers that bloom and fade, 
Trees that grow sturdier in storm and shade, 
Begotten are they all of God, not made 

Like cups of clay. 



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REABSORPTION INTO DEITY. 



107 



Why have we right 
To some chief boon of immortality 
Not given our brothers of the wood and sky: 
Strong beasts, soft- fluttering, winged birds that fly 

From light to light ? 



% 



Then let me go 
Into the great hereafter joyously, 
To live, yet not to live apart from thee; 
From thy great life the life now lent to me 

No more to flow. 



The Ocean vast 
Has need of all his wayward waves and streams. 
The Central Sun has need of all his beams; 
It is full time these strange, fantastic dreams 

Of mine were past. 

I turn to thee, 
O thou great Father, Universal Soul, 
Unheeding nature's myriad bells that toll 
Dead things; since all life's rivers roll 

Back to their sea. 



108 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



Ah, what can be 
So grand for nature or for man, what fate 
So lofty, as to sweep in solemn state 
At evening, back through a wide open gate 

To DeUy! 



EDER'S WATCHTOIVER. 



109 



EDER'S WATCHTOWER. 

T LOVE the soft incoming tide 
■*■ That breaks in showers of silver spray, 
I love the dawn that opens wide 
The floodgates of the living day, 

I love the harvest voice that speaks 
From each green blade of growing corn, 

I love the first fair beam that breaks 
Across the heart in sorrow's morn; 



|;i 



But fairer than the silver tide. 
And brighter than the morning's flood 

The light on Bethlehem's meadows wide 
Where Eder's ancient watchtower stood. 

O little town of Bethlehem, 

Where Christ, the perfect man, was bom, 
Thy memories are dear to them 

Whose earth-shod feet are travel-worn. 



lB 



I 



H I 



110 



A CAD/ AN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



'< :i 



The Angels' song thy shepherds heard 

Is echoing along the years, 
Thou hast an ever welcome word 

For human woes and human fears; 

O fairer than the silver tide 

And brighter than the morning's flood 
The light across thy meadows wide, 

Where Eder's ancient watchtower stood. 

The plains of life are cold and gray 
Like those beneath the Syrian stars, 

Our lips are dumb when we would pray, 
Our hopes are all defaced with scars, 

The promise of a perfect world 
So faintly gleams on distant hills 

That faith from her strong tower is hurled, 
And wild despair her bosom fills; 

But thou, dear town of Bethlehem, 
Dost promise to our darkened race 

That heaven's fairest diadem 

The forehead of mankind shall grace. 






;| 



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i, 



EDER'S H^A TCHTOWER. 



Ill 



And we are glad, this Christmas time, 
That first upon thy starlit hills, 

Where purple Syrian harebells climb. 
And drink the freshness of the rills, 

There shone the sacred Christmas light. 
And echoed clear the Angels' song, 

Tiiat still rings out upon the night 
Of human misery and wrong. 

O fairer than the silver tide, 

And brighter than the morning's flood 
The light on Bethlehem's meadows wide, 

Where Eder's ancient watchtower stood. 



[I' 



» 
A 5: 



112 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



DAY OF THE TRIUMPHANT SUN. 
T T is tke ancient Yule-tide, 
"*■ The time of mirth and cheer; 
With memories gay, upon his way 

We'll send the good, old year. 
We'll deck him out with garlands 

Of wild vines from the rocks, 
With holly red, we'll wreathe his head 

And bind his silver locks. 

At Yule our Norse forefathers 

Built high their sacred fires, 
And in the glow hung mistletoe 

About their homes and byres; 
And we their loyal children 

Ere yet the year is done, 
This Christmas day will own the sway 

Of "the triumphant Sun." 









i f 'A 



At Yule the goddess Berchta, 
When shining Fagrahvel 



DA y OF THE TRIUMPHANT SL/N. 



113 



His golden car had driven far 

The Spring's approach to tell, 
Walked through the frozen furrows 

And sprinkled gladness there. 
While corn and wheat sprang 'neath her feet 

Upon the meadows bare. 

And Odin the creator. 

His fiery horse astride. 
O'er land and sea rode wild and free 

To check the Winter-tide; 
And fountains from their prisons 

With merry songs burst forth, 
And warriors gay appeared, to slay 

The giant of the North. 

At Yule we deck our houses 

With wreaths of evergreen, 
And peace and joy without alloy 

On every face are seen; 
The Yule-tide fires are lighted 

And Yule-tide carols sung, 
And, loud and low, across the snow 

The sweet church chimes are rung. 



114 



A CAD/AN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



f 



And Christian texts are mingled 

With holly berries red 
As through the land, from hand to hand, 

Fair Christmas gifts are spread. 
For Christian memories hoary 

With Norse dwell side by side, 
And Yule wears now upon her brow 

The crown of Christmas-tide. 






i 

mi 






I 



My PUREST LONGINGS SPRING. 



115 



MY PUREST LONGINGS SPRING. 

TV yr Y purest longings spring 
"*•"■*■ From the divine, 
The sweetest songs I sing 
They are not mine. 

I chisel the rude stone 

With trembling hand, 
The statue comes alone 

At God's command. 

Beyond earth's tainted air 

I sometimes fly 
On wings of faith and prayer; 

Yet 'tis not I. 



Not I but He who lights 
My flickering creeds ; 

The Power that unites 
My broken deeds. 



116 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



Not I but God ; for He, 

My larger life, 
Fulfils Himself in me 

With ceaseless strife. 



h ii 






BROTHERHOOD. 



117 



BROTHERHOOD. 

THERE'S little to choose in this world of ours 
'Twixt the peasant and the King, 
Tho' the monarch feasts with wine and flowers, 

And wears a goodly ring, 
While the peasant sports on the village green 

In a suit of homespun gray; 
The pleasure of one is just as keen 
As thv, other's, every way. 

Each carries a heart that sings and sighs, 

By turns, as the changes come; 
Each finds in life some sad surprise, 

At which his lips grow dumb. 
Passion and pride and lust and greed 

Are mixed with the good in each, 
And deep in his soul is the human need 

That Heaven alone can reach. 

The monarch has laws he must obey 
And burdens he must bear, 



118 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L VRICS. 



He envies the peasant, many a day, 

His lack of kingly care; 
And both look into the same fair sky, 

Fenced with its golden stars, 
And wonder what vast treasures lie 

Behind those glittering bars. 



THE ANCIENT GODS ARE DEAD. 



119 



THE ANCIENT GODS ARE DEAD. 
'I ^HE ancient gods are dead! 

**• Jove rules no longer o'er the Olympian plain, 
Old ocean waits for Neptune's car in vain, 
Apollo tunes no more his golden lyre, 
Vesuvius trembles not with Vulcan's fire, 
Mars leads not now the armies of the world, 
Young Cupid's darts at Pluto are not hurled. 
And Venus' charms are fled. 

The ancient gods are dead! 
Valhalla s noble halls are empty now, 
Where Thor, the mighty thunderer, from his brow 
Shot lightnings forth upon the trembling earth. 
And Odin held his wassail, and loud mirth 
Echoed from roof to roof, as went the feast. 
Until the day dawned and the waiting east 

Made radiant Baldur's head. 



The ancient gods are dead! 
On Sinai's rugged heights the clouds appear, 



190 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND L YKICS. 



I 



I 



The prophet goes no longer there to hear 
The eternal word, nor full of gladness sees 
Heaven's judgments break on all his enemies. 
The flower-sprinkled sod at God's command 
Reeks not with useless blood, nor thro' the land 
His vengeful armies spread. 

The ancient gods are dead! 
No Roman despot sits on heaven's throne 
Dispensing judgments by his will alone; 
Bids some ascend to heaven, some sink to hell, 
In arbitrary bliss or woe to dwell. 
The true God asks no sacrifice of blood. 
Nor nails His victims to the cruel wood 

In others' guilty stead. 

The ancient gods are dead! 
Law rules majestic in the courts above, 
And has no moods, but hand in hand with love. 
Sweeps thro* the universe, and smiling sees 
The spheres obedient to her vast decrees. 
Proclaims all men, not slaves, but sons of God, 
And breathes the message of His Fatherhood ; 

The true God is not dead. 



O EASTER QUEEN. 



in 



and 



ill, 



)ve, 



1; 



O EASTER QUEEN. 
/^ EASTER, queen of all the days 
^^ That wear the Church's crown, 
Upon our troubled human ways 
Thy calm, fair face looks down. 

Thou cam'st this morning thro* the fields 
And spoke some magic word, 

And all the plain where harvest yields 
With pulsing life was stirred. 

The jacqueminot and tulip gay 

About thy pathway pressed, 
But golden-petaled lilies lay 

In triumph on thy breast. 

The messenger of death bowed low 

To kiss thy conquering feet, 
Life, trembling, seemed at last to know 

Her victory complete. 

Thou earnest to the sleeping town 
And where the mourner lay, 






i i 



199 



ACAD/ A AT LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



And joy rose from her prison brown 
And rolled the stone away. 

Thou hast the um whose spices blend 

To sweeten all the year; 
O Easter queen, new courage send 

To us who worship here. 

O Easter, queen of all the days 
That wear the Church's crown, 

To form thy purest aureole-rays, 
Heaven sends its sunlight down. 



J ) 



,1 1 



f 


fl 


i 


ii 






^A 





FOUNTAINS ABBEY. 



188 



FOUNTAINS ABBEY. 

T NEVER knew so well how throbbed the lieart 

Of those old centuries we keep apart 
So eigerly from ours, as when I stood 
Alone, one Autumn day, in softest mood 
Beside the ruins England loves so well, 
Her Fountains Abbey in the vale of Skell. 

A sea of living meadow far and near 
Laughed at the menace of the waning year; 
But like some lonely rock far up the shore, 
That ne'er again shall hear the plash of oar 
Nor feel the tides, apart from field and wood 
These ruined walls and broken cloisters stood. 



I 

I 



I 



Univied pillars here and there aloof. 
That once had borne the weight of gilded roof, 
And gothic arch, and heaven-lifted tower. 
Disdained the threats of time and all its power, 
And seemed like hoary men who bid us try 
The courtlier manners of an age gone by. 



1 



134 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LVRICS. 



By ancient buttressed walls I still could trace 
The Abbey's separate parts, could, keep in place 
On this side and on that the foaming Skell, 
Nave, chancel, chapter house, and crypt and cell; 
A living harniony of chiselled stone, 
A gothic forest in this valley grown. 

It was not strange I felt once more the thrill 
Of the old life, for every place at will 
Brings back its myriad dead, not ghosts but men. 
Who take their old tasks up, and walk again 
The common ways. Alive grew plain and wood 
With the white robed Cistercian brotherhood. 



1] 



Some tilled the fields, some from the forest came 
I.aden with fresh cut fuel or with game; 
Some tended glowing ovens deep and wide, 
Or turned the juicy spit from side to side. 
Some thoughtful, with the air of high bred men. 
Cowls back, sat silent, wielding brush or pen. 

In holy sanctuary, where the east 

Poured mellow splendors thro' the church, a priest 

With broidered robes at the high altar sung 



FOUNTAINS ABBEY. 



125 



ace 
place 

• 

id cell; 



II 

men, 

k'ood 
1. 

:aine 



(n, 



Jriest 






A noble mass whose echoes faintly rung 
Into the raftered gloom and lingered there, 
Like Skell's own murmurs on the evening air. 

On traceried windows rich with red and gold, 
Time honored legends of the Church were told; 
Martyrs and saints, children of want and fear, 
Had reached an aureoled existence here. 
In jewelled splendor, over all, was he 
Of Bethlehem's manger and Gethsemane. 

I saw the abbot like a potentate 
Come riding proudly thro' the open gate, 
While, as he rode, a cowled monastic bore 
With lifted hands, a silver cross before; 
And every tonsured brother, low or high. 
Made reverent gesture as his lord went by. 

I saw the weary traveller alight 

Before the abbey walls at dead of night. 

Too tired to take the bridle from his steed. 

Too tired to tell the answering monk his need. 

Or claim the hospitality here given 

Like Israel's manna or the dew of heaven. 






126 



A CAD/AN LEGENDS AND L YRICS. 



The castellated feudal towers that frowned 
Their moated terrors on the country round, 
And o'er the serf-tilled soil with verdure drest, 
Proclaimed a sullen sway from east to v'est, 
From neighboring woods looked on, amazed to see 
Such peace, such open hospitality. 

O golden days, I said, when rich and poor. 
Knights riding home across the lonely moor, 
The humblest laborer in field or fen, 
Princes ard cassocked priests and serving men 
Were ever welcome to an abbey's fires. 
Its ripening fruits, the fat kine in its byres. 

O wondrous age, when poets sang their songs 
In these cool cells, unhindered by the throngs 
That love not melody. When Science knew 
A place where, welcome, she might search the blue. 
Still dome of heaven, or unsuspected pry 
Amidst the rocks, her field the earth and sky. 

O happy men, whom cmel, cureless hate. 
Love unrequited, fe^^tcring sores of state, 
The din of clashing creeds, domestic strife, 






•! 



FOUNTAINS ABBEY. 



127 



The lusts and lies that sicken us of life, 
Drove here for shelter. Discords as of hell 
Were hushed within you here beside the Skell. 

O happy, happy age, too wise to hurl 

The soul forever back into the whirl 

Of tempted life. To bid the tired brain 

Keep ever listening the one refrain 

That maddened most. Too wise to let men waste 

All noblest energy in fever haste. 

O ruined abbey, all the hope and fear 
Of all the centuries are gathered here. 
Devotion, brotherhood, and lust and greed, 
Man's noblest triumph, and his darkest deed. 
The great world's soul is in these violet blooms 
Above your nameless monks' forgotten tombs. 



128 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L YRICS. 



TO LORD HAMILTON OF DALZELL. 

T^ TCFIED clear against September skies 
■*"^ Upon the lowland landscape rise 
The rugged towers of Dalzell. 

A stately castle by the Clyde, 
VVJth parks that stretch on every side, 
^.^d limu-llned avenues, the pride 
Of c 11 the sons of Motherwell; 

in .^arl'C' . 'nr:s, with moat and keep, 
A feudal fortr: ', tern and steep, 

It frowned upon the neighboring woods, 

And challenged hostile chiefs to try 

Their strength, and watched with jealous eye 

Cowled monks on stately steeds ride by, 

And knights with helmets 'neath their hoods. 

But now it has no frown, no fear, 
Its owner is a genial peer. 
Of soldier sires a soldier son, — 



TO LORD HAMILTON OF DALZELL. 



139 



From whose dark- panelled walls look down 
Brave men who gained a just renown, 
Fair women fit for any crown — 
By double right a Hamilton. 

A liberal mind and liberal heart 
Are his, how often kept apart 
In nobles as in humbler men, 

A thoughtful man who scans the page 
Of history to know his age, 
And to the strife of work and wage, 
Not all unmoved, turns back again. 

On Scottish soil from sea to sea. 
Though many castles fair there be, 
I know not one that blends so well 

Old types and new. And all the place 
Seems haunted by the perfect grace 
Of Lady Emily's sweet face, 

The dear, dead mistress of Dalzell. 

Since England's future king and queen 
Have lately passed her gates between, 
A royal charm Dalzell has won ; 



180 



A CAD/ AN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



\i I 



I 



Yet here within her ivied walls, 

Her old-world chambers, spacious halls 

A subtler charm my heart enthralls. 

Within me flame ancestral (ires. 
Here wakes the blood of all my sires 
Of the proud race of Hamilton. 

The scutcheoned panels overhead 
Recall my ancestors, not dead 
To me, though ruined abbeys keep 

Their mouldering dust, and castles gray 
That once were theirs, to proud decay 
Are fallen, and time has wiped away 
The fond inscriptions where they sleep. 

My Lord, thy hospitality 
I would repay, would welcome thee 
Across the ocean where I dwell. 

And may I not some day return. 
When Autumn from her golden urn 
Hath dropped red fires on brae and burn. 
To thy fair towers of Dalzell ? 






TO LORD HAMILTON OF DALZELL. 



131 



So shall thou still increase my claim 
(Though mine is an untitled name) 
To pride in all that thou hast done, 

And make me prouder still to share 
With thee the blood that she who bare 
Me gave. And prouder still to wear 
The ancient name of Hamilton. 



I 



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O RESTLESS POET SOUL. 



185 



O RESTLESS POET SOUL. 
Q\ RESTLESS poet soul that know'st no bounds, 
A world of unspent song lies back of thee; 
Thou livest in a land of melody 
For thee earth has no common sights or sounds. 

With wool the people bid thee stuff thine ears; 

" Be satisfied." they cry, " with what we teach;" 
Then laugh, and say: •• What is it that he hears ? 

Song is but song, truth loves staid forms of speech." 

But thou, with music melting thee to tears, 
Bring'st nobler strains through their ff -d, fragile 

creeds, 
Like one who pipes sweet songs on simple reeds; 

And thou art deaf to all their frets and fears. 

Sing then thy strains however poor they be, 
A world of unspent song lies back of thee. 



138 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



THE AWAKENING. 
" I ^OO long my soul has lain in sordid sleep 

-*• Floating on seas whose depths I never knew, 
At last, aroused, I look into the deep 
In wonder, all is old, yet, O so new. 

Love, love, sweet love, what gift is thine to show 
The soul life's inmost depths, what power 

To make the hidden currents seen that flow 
From root to root, from stem to leaf and flower. 

O, I am MOW more human with my kind, 

More reverent, no longer in the sod 
The home of souls, man's final rest, I find, 

For my dim eyes behold his source, the God 

Of whom no sage on earth, no saint above 
Can say a greater thing than He is love. 



i 1 



cs. 



LOyE'S SLATER V. 



187 



ep 

er knew, 



show 



Slower. 



[)d 



LOVE'S SLAVERY. 

/^N the low levels of my love for thee 

I talk of its pure passion as of chains 
That bind my soul in gold-linked slavery, 
A willing bondage, yet not free from pains. 

But when love once has reached the hill-tops, high 
Above the murky sphere where " mine and thine " 

Hold feud forever, all in vain I try 
To find betwixt our souls a bounding line 

I would not be thy slave, though servitude 
To thee exceed rule of another's heart, 

Bonds chafe, chains clank, and in some moment rude 
The servant and his lord perforce may part. 

O love, for us the sweet slave life is done, 
The perfect union of our souls begun. 



188 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



i: 



^i; 



SEPARATION. 

'" I "IS torture, yet I would not it were less, 
■*" Since anguish is the sure tide-mark of love; 

Say thou art glad, dear heart, at my distress, 
Thus should I prove ihee if 'twere right to prove. 

Yet do I truly love thee, selfish fear 

Is so inwoven with all my thought of thee ? 

/ love, / suffer, O that he were here 

That he might say again that he loves me. 

Or should I be so inly glad to know 

That thou wert suffering, if my love were true; 
Would love not rather all its own forego 

Than have the knowledge that thou sufferest too, 

O agony of love, does life's best bliss 
Bring always with it questioning like this ? 



\ n 



{-■ft 
Ml 



P.i 



f 






mmmmmmmm 



PAW. 



139 



PAIN. 
J KNEW not pain till I had felt my soul 

Sweep outward on a wide, wild sea of love, 
And then had seen the friendly stars above 
Fade, one by one, and cold, gray silence roll 
Into the heaven where tender thoughts had hung 
To light me o'er the silver-crested foam. 
"O shivering soul." I cried, "come home, come home. 
Night's dews are cold, thy cloak from thee is flung. 
He loves thee not, or if he loves, he shares 
His heart with other suppliants beside thee; 
It is not well in fruitless agony 
To spend the hours; betake thee to thy prayers." 
Then bruised and blind my soul turned to the land, 
But moaned all night upon the yellow ^and. 



I 



140 



A CA DIA N LEGENDS AND L VRICS. 



LOVE LETTERS. 
T ^ rilO keeps not somewhere safely stored away, 
^ Like jewels in a casket quaint, from view, 

A bundle of love-letters, old or new. 
Yellow with age, or fresh as buds of May. 

Who, sometimes, in the silence of the night, 
With stealthy fingers does not draw them forth, 
Dear, tender treasures, not of common worth, 

And live the old love o'er that suffered blight. 

Yes, here are mine, not faded yet with years; 
Sometimes I laugh at the old tender flame 
That kindled them, but is it any shame 

To whisjier they are wet, to-night, with tears. 

What strange, persistent power love has to hold 
Its life, though all its ashes have grown cold. 



wmmt 




THE VIRGIN'S SHRINE. 



141 



THE VIRGIN'S SHRINE. 

"1 ^ rnO kneels in silent rapture on the sod 
' ~ In open sky, or on the marble floor 
Of some dark church, his soul's true prayers says o'er. 

Adores the holy motherhood of God. 

The shrine of Mary is not reverenced less 

By men whose feet are swift, whose arms are strong, 
Than by sweet woman souls to whom belong 

By tight maternity and gentleness. 

All lofty things in our conception meet 

In the divine, all beautiful and good; 

The sterner attributes of Fatherhood 
Alone make not for man a God complete. 

If we at Mary's altars best may feci 

God's true maternity, there should we kneel. 



\ 



142 



A CA DIA N L EGENDS AND L YRICS. 



IF CHRIST WERE HERE. 

T F Christ were with us in this restless age, 

*' Where light and shade so strangely intermix. 

To all the woeful clash of work and wage, 

The complex questionings that minds engage. 

Men's strifes, could he the meanings true affix ? 

To any of the sullen, sickening waves 

Of doubt and death that cross our social seas 

Could he speak peace? From deep-dug, dreamless 

graves. 
Where silken-shrouded lie the world's dead slaves. 
Could he call back me^ slain by lust and ease ? 
O, Master, while we long for thee, and hold 
Thy love a mantle where our hearts might fold 
Their aches, we fear that even thou shuuldst see 
The problems oi the age too deep for thee. 






1m^ I J 



A DREAM OF CHRIST. 



149 



A DREAM OF CHRIST. 
I. 

J DREAMED that Christ was here, and, as of old. 
The people cried "Jesus is going by "; 

And I. knowing his time had come to die. 

Made eager move his passing steps to hold. 

" In one short hour he will be back," they said, 
So, waiting, I began to wonder how 
I should receive him, whether I should bow 
Low at his feet, nor dare to lift my head, 
Or, as a man, with human feeling strong, 
Meeting his fellow man, gives him his hand 
And says, " Brother." or " Master, I have long 
Waited the day before you close to stand; " 
I might, at last, unhindered see and feel 
The truth about the Christ to whom men kneel. 



144 



ACADIAN LEGENDS AND LYRICS. 



II. 

Decision quick took shape within my mind 
To greet the Saviour in a manful way, 
To look into his deep, soft eyes and say, 
" Master, thou know'st truth is hard to find, 
The wisest men are blind and lead the blind; 
Tell us hast thou indeed more light than they ? 
And he, I thought, a man sincere and kind, 
Will put aside all strangeness, and obey 
My wish, and I, at last, shall know what he 
Believes, and what the grounds of his faith are. 
So, with a sweet sense of expectancy. 
As for my dearest friend, I watched afar 
His coming, till at length I woke alone. 
And all my hope of finding truth was gone. 









m^mmm^m'mmmmfi 




DEEPENING THE CHANNEL. 



146 



DEEPENING THE CHANNEL. 
A ROCKY channel from the harbor led 

The ships to sea, a blue but shallow sound 
With surging tides, upon whose treacherous bed 
The keels of heavy vessels ground and ground. 

The channel must be deepened, men agree, 
And so, great thunderous blasts of rock they blew, 

And all the sleepy sands were dredged; till, free 
From fear, the heaviest ships went swiftly through. 

We fret and foam, as if our surface tide 
Was fathoms deep, and never know the truth 

Till love or sorrow through the water ride. 
And grate its keel upon the sands of youth; 

God cleaves the rock beneath the channel blue, 
And then his noblest ships sail safely through. 



IM 



ACADIAN LJiCENDS AND Li'/iJCS. 



MATTHEW ARNOLD. 

A S he who seeks to know the depths that lie 

Beneath his feet with patience gropes his way. 
By aid of scarped cliff and mountain high 
And fossil fragment new to history, 
Down to the lowest rocks, once pliant clay, 
So thou with thy clear penetrating eye 
Hast looked below the surface mind of man, 
And, loving truth, hast helped us classify 
As Glacial or Silurian, thoughts that lie 
In layers deep with little seeming plan. 

Yet, too, a poet, far from things like these, 

Past ruddy Mars and distant Pleiades, 

To thought's high spheres thou lead'st our lagging feet, 

Where all the plan of life is shown complete. 



i 



Hiii 



Mil #1 laiii pppsMi^i^w 




ELISlfA MVr.FORD. 



147 



ELISHA MULFORD. 
J KNEW a man (O that he still were here) 

Who in an age of falsehood cared for truth, 
Who loved the uncorrupt ideals of youth. 
And through the shams of later life saw clear. 

While others worshipped idols he drew near 
The heart of things, and there into his face 
God looked, and he in God's, till all the grace 

That in the aureoles of saints appear 

Seemed thrown, a rich divineness. round his head. 
And light such as the old saints never knew 
Sweept through his mind. The church to thought too 
dead 
To feel the worth of men like him, withdrew 

Her sympathy; " He wages not my strife," 
She said. But Truth was richer for his life. 



14ft 



HA RVARD COMMENCEMEN T. 



W 



HARVARD COMMENCEMENT. 
HEN Cambridge elms arc green, and many an 



oar 



Ikncalh the Charles' muddy wave is dipt, 
And Boston spires, Venetian-sunset tipt, 
Watch gliding gondolas from shore to shore, 

Then doth Fair Harvard open wide her door, 
And speak her annual welcome, magic-lipped, 
To all her sons, of age and honors stripped 

Again, boys still at forty or fourscore. 

Grave statesmen then drink healths from ruddy bowls, 
And Freshman follies laughingly recall. 
And reverend parsons, sober, spare, and tall. 

Relax the tension of their long-strained souls. 

O Cambridge elms, O College growing gray. 
Guard well the secrets of Commencement-day! 



ini?i 



>!■■ III! 



many an 



i, 



bowls,